


New Horizons

by lifeaftermeteor



Series: Life After Meteor [17]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: BROTPs abound, F/M, Gen, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Endless Waltz, Post-Series, Preventers (Gundam Wing)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 10:25:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15884163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeaftermeteor/pseuds/lifeaftermeteor
Summary: In AC 209 colonial independence has officially begun, and with it comes new opportunities and challenges for all of the Earth Sphere.  Underneath the sweeping changes, however, is a personal desire for change and reinvention and growth.  Quatre turns away from WEI to begin a career in public service.  Trowa does some soul searching during his 'sabbatical' in Las Vegas.  Wufei expends his energy reforming the Preventers for the new era even while he and Relena take their relationship to the next level.  Heero and Duo meanwhile lean on one another as they study their wants and needs professionally and personally.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 17 of the [Life After Meteor](https://archiveofourown.org/series/391015) series, which trails the Gundam Pilots (and others) through the years post-war. Welcome comments/feedback.
> 
> Also I continue to owe an unending debt of gratitude to [tumbledrylemur](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tumbledrylemur/) for the beta reading. This monster of a series is better for all your help - I couldn't do it without you. <3

**Preventers Headquarters  
** **Geneva, Switzerland  
** **21 January 209**

“What can you tell us about the Gundam pilot who's running the show in the front office?”

Heero looked up from his computer to find no less than four sets of eyes peering down at him over his cubicle wall. 

Offices in Headquarters had become few and far between in the years he'd been stationed in New York, repurposed as meeting spaces and supply closets. He honestly didn't mind being in and among his team. It promised less grandeur, more chances to work directly with the people who  _ really _ made things happen. He viewed his own position as a mover of paper and a convincer of upper echelons; whatever it took to make the agents’ jobs easier, that's what he would be. 

But it apparently also meant providing intel on his former roommate, not that any of them knew that’s what they were asking for. “What do you want to know?” he asked the assembled group. 

“He was the Deputy in New York, yeah? How does he run an office?”

“I heard he's a bit of a task master. He's already raising Hell with your bosses.”

“But I heard from the admin that he's very nice,” a third countered. 

“We honestly just don't know.”

Heero offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile to the group as he leaned back in his chair. He knew Wufei would be happy to know that he was causing waves only a month into the job. But some would argue it wad to be expected of a Gundam pilot, especially a  _ known _ Gundam pilot. 

After a moment's quiet consideration, Heero replied, “Wufei is a lot of things, most of which make him a good agent. He has high expectations, so drives everyone to give their 110 percent all day every day. But no matter how hard he pushes  _ you _ , he pushes  _ himself _ harder.  He's mission-oriented and expects everyone else in the organization to be wired the same, which means he had no patience for dead weight. He also has no patience for hierarchy and little tolerance for authority.”

“Even as someone  _ with _ authority?” one of the agents said with a grin. 

_ He probably hasn't internalized that yet. _ “Wufei is an egalitarian at heart. Everyone deserves respect, regardless of their position. Everyone can also lose that respect.”

“So don't get on his bad side,” one of the agents acknowledged with a nod. 

“What if we can't give 110 percent all day every day?”

Heero looked at the young woman who had asked the question. She looked worried...and sad. Gently, Heero replied, “Your 110 percent today may be tomorrow's 70 percent. Wufei takes that into account. And so do I. Wufei's a hard man because of everything he's been through. But he's also a kind one. None of you have anything to worry about. That much I can guarantee.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Main Corridor, President’s Mansion  
** **Brussels, Belgium  
** **3 February 209**

“Since when are you on this Council?” Duo asked as he came up beside her.  He sounded amused. But then, Relena reasoned, he always sounded amused, as if the whole of international governance was some cosmic joke.

Relena smiled.  “Since Tuesday. I’m still finding my footing,” she admitted.  

She had received a notice about the opening on the ESUN President’s Advisory Council for System Exploration and Development in December.  Looking for a change of pace from the disarmament effort, she had thrown her name in for consideration. The interview had been...fun, which had been a pleasant surprise.  The review panel had acknowledged they were looking for someone who understood  _ people  _ in this particular position; the science was already covered by others in the Council.  And so they had peppered her with questions about diffusing tense situations and ESUN protocol and information relay methods...but they’d also asked her if she could tie herself to some B-List celebrity in six moves or less.  She was able to do it in five. And now Relena had a sneaking suspicion that she knew where that last question (and others like it) had come from.

“That explains the back-benching,” Duo reasoned as they walked down the hallway together.  “Next meeting you should sit at the table.”

“Next meeting you should get a room that allows everyone to sit at the table,” she countered.

Duo grimaced and then shot her a wide grin.  “Ah, but that’s the thing. If everyone sits at the table, then no one has to bring their A Game.  If you’re at the table in the small room, then you  _ have  _ to contribute.”

“Are you trying to scare me into doing my homework, Duo Maxwell?” Relena asked.

“Just setting expectations.”  There was a challenge in his eyes, but then his face softened.  “How you been?”

“Good,” she replied.  When a colleague turned back from the group that had progressed several paces ahead of them, she waved him off.  She’d catch up. Pausing in the hall, she turned fully to Duo who also stopped. He looked the part of the Special Assistant, smartly dressed in a dark suit which she suspected had been tailored for it to fit his small frame so well.  His hair had been bound into a tight braid that trailed down his back, hanging almost as long as it had been when she had first met him years ago. “I’m trying to recall the last time I saw you in person,” she told him as she continued her study.  “December was too short a trip to New York.”

Duo shrugged it off and gave her a roguish wink.  “Eh, you saw the one who mattered. That’s the important part.”

“Perhaps, but…”  Relena trailed off and let the original thought die.  She then tried again. “I’d like us to be friends,” she told him.  “Real friends, not just work colleagues. And not just because of  _ them _ .”  

“And why would you want that?” he murmured, and though his smile stayed in place Relena could see the gears turning as he searched for an angle.

_ We’re quite the pair, _ she thought.  _ We’ve both learned to doubt those around us.  _  “Because,” she began and then paused.  She glanced up the hall and worried her lower lip between her teeth before turning back to him, confident that the other staff were well out of earshot.  “Because when was the last time you had a friend you could rely on who wasn’t either a teammate or one of the others?” His eyes trailed away from hers to focus somewhere over her shoulder as he considered the question, and Relena knew she had struck a nerve.  “I suspect the last time for you was the last time for me. It’d be nice to change that.”

Duo was quiet for a time, avoiding her gaze.  She began to wonder if perhaps she’d overstepped the bounds he had put her in.  But when he turned back to meet her eyes, there was a warmth in his smile that hadn’t been there before.  “You should be careful taking in strays.  _ They  _ would both tell you I’m not always the easiest to deal with.”

Relena laughed at this.  “ _ They  _ would both tell you I’m much the same.”

Duo snorted and shook his head.  He shifted between his feet and shifted the folio he’d been carrying to his other hand.  “What are two extroverts to do,” he mused aloud. Then he said, “There’s a rock show downtown on Thursday.  I was considering going, but these sorts of things are always more fun with someone else. In case you wanted to join.”

Relena smiled and began to pull away.  “Send me the information. I’ll be there.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Winner Family Compound  
** **L4-V05001  
** **9 March 209**

“Are you sure about this?”

Quatre smirked at the concerned image of his sister Iria on the screen before him.  “No,” he answered honestly, “but I’m never 100 percent certain of  _ anything  _  I do, and at least half of the time I do it because it seemed like a good idea at the time.  So this isn’t exactly outside of the norm.”

Iria frowned.  “You can’t lead the company while serving on the L4 Representatives’ Advisory Committee.  Anything WEI does will look like inside knowledge. What are you going to do?”

“Divest.  Blind trusts,” Quatre replied with a shrug.  “Whatever our lawyers say is necessary and prudent.”  Since the vote, ethics lawyers across L4 had been busy as more and more of the populace had waded into the political fray that had suddenly been opened to them.  His own consul had laughed for a solid five minutes when Quatre broached the subject of public service. As the head of WEI, divesting the portfolio and eliminating potential conflicts of interest was a daunting undertaking to say the least.  

“But are you  _ sure  _ about this?” Iria pressed, clearly unconvinced.  “Going through all of this...it could end up that you went through everything for naught.  I mean, what if you don’t like it? What if you’re not ready?”

“We gave a teenager control of one of the largest enterprises in the entire Earth Sphere.  Whose bright idea was  _ that _ ?” Quatre asked, unable to keep the bitterness from his words.

“And you’ve never failed.”

“Maybe I need to.”  This took his sister aback and Quatre watched her tilt her head to the side, confused.  Taking a breath, he explained, “I’ve been at the helm of WEI since ‘96. No, we haven’t failed.  I’d argue that’s not because of me, but rather because of the thousands of people beneath me that keep this beast moving forward.  It will continue to do that without me.

“What’s more...I need to know what else is out there.  I cannot,  _ will not _ , be the head of WEI forever.  I’ve spent the last thirteen years playing that role.  What more is there for me in the world if I’m not that?  What can I do to  _ give back  _ to everyone who has worked so damn hard to get us here?  If ever there was a time to find out, it’s now.

“And…” he continued, fighting against the whispers of his own doubt, “and if this turns out to be the wrong path, then I’ll...figure it out.  Maybe I’ll go back to school. Take up horticulture. Maybe our R&D team will give me an internship.”

Iria snorted and shook her head.  After a moment, she sighed and said with a smile, “Alright, alright.  I trust you. Go make the future.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Preventers Headquarters  
** **Geneva, Switzerland  
** **17 April 209**

Heero sat in the large conference room, trading nods of acknowledgement and casual niceties with other Preventers Deputy Assistant Directors.  Some he had grown to know well since his arrival; others he was less familiar. He supposed that was on him, by this point. After several months on the job, and what felt sometimes like an infinite number of mid-level coordination meetings, he probably should at the very least know what occupied their minds during working hours.  

This meeting, however, fell outside their normal convening hours and Heero was surprised so many had come.  Especially when their Chairman had only sent a fairly vague missive about the meeting’s intent.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Heero turned to find the man in question dropping into the seat beside him.  Oskar Nilsson had been a classmate of his and Duo’s, and had climbed the Corps’ ranks by being as valuable in the field as he was at Headquarters.

“Doing alright,” Heero answered.  Glancing among the assembled attendees, he asked quietly, “You think this is a good idea?”

Nilsson grinned.  “There’s a reason they call us all ‘DADs.’”  

Heero snorted and nodded, pushing his reservations aside.  It was then that he caught sight of another familiar face. Sally’s ESUN military advisor, Colonel Matías Lorenzo, [1] had slid into a chair along the far wall.  The man met Heero’s gaze and nodded in silent greeting.

Nilsson then brought the group to bear, calling for everyone’s attention so that they could begin and get back to their day jobs.  “As most of you know, the Preventers is undergoing sweeping organization and process changes,” Nilsson said. “Our Chief of Staff is heading up this momentous effort.  Like most of you, I’ve found _certain individuals_ within the leadership cadre between us and the Front Office are less than helpful when it comes to embracing change.  There’s only so much managing-up we can do without undermining our bosses...But we _can_ let Zhang know we’re with him and are standing by to help, even if it means doing so outside of official channels and chains of command.

“But that’s only half of it.  Even with the support, Heero here—” Nilsson clapped Heero on the shoulder, startling him with the force of the friendly blow, “—tells us that Zhang has the tendency to bury himself in the task before him and lose track of the things that make life enjoyable.  Like good food, good friends, and bad puns.”

A smattering of laughter met the comment.  Nilsson grinned. “That’s where _we_ come in.  We’re launching a super secret ‘Keep our Chief of Staff sane’ sub-committee to this gaggle, and if you want in let Heero and I know.  We’ll be instituting regular morale checks on Zhang, but here’s the catch: each one has to be more ridiculous than the last.”

“You sure that’s not gonna get us fired?” came the question from down the table, but Heero could tell the query was only half-serious.

“The Director is in on this,” Lorenzo spoke up from his seat along the wall, jumping in before either Heero or Nilsson could reply.  His wide grin was playful and infectious. “She actually reached down to Heero to get this started. No one is in danger of losing their jobs, so long as everyone remembers _why_ we’re doing this.  We need our Chief of Staff ‘mentally engaged and mildly irritated’ as she calls it.  He’s dealing with too much self-important bullshit from within the ranks as it is. Preventers is a _family_.  We take care of our own...but we also give folks a good ribbing when time and circumstance allow.” [2]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Easter Egg! Lorenzo shows up in [The Europa Affair](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5409851/chapters/12498659), albeit in a much different capacity.


	5. Chapter 5

**Darlian Family Country Home  
** **North Rhine-Westphalia, Germany  
** **20 May 209**

They had made the two-hour trek to the Diarlian Family home several days prior.  The property was well and truly off the beaten path, tucked deep into the German countryside away from prying eyes.  They had taken a maze of unmarked roads once they had gotten across the border from Belgium. Wufei had been more than happy to let Relena drive.  With every kilometer that brought them closer, she had grown more excited, which he had the privilege to watch from his seat beside her. 

She had only hesitated once, at an intersection lined with farmland.  “I think it’s a right,” Relena had mused, “but the fence is different.”

“People are allowed to change their fences, though it’s unfortunate they didn’t consult you about the impact on navigation.”

Relena had snorted at the comment.  “I’m 92 percent certain it’s a right here and I didn’t miss some other turn earlier.”  With a decisive twist of her hands, she had turned them up the country road.

As it turned out, they had not taken a wrong turn and arrived at the gates to the property not long after.  Mrs. Mareen Darlian had been waiting for them at the entrance as they pulled up to the large brick manse. Manicured gardens framed the gravel drive, and it appeared there were more off to the side, leading toward a small apple orchard.  

As they pulled in to park, Wufei struggled to take in the size of the place and muttered, “Please tell me she doesn’t live here by herself.”

“No,” Relena assured.  “She has a townhouse in Cologne, which is more her style.  But…” She paused and worried her lower lip between her teeth before continuing, “But she never seems to have had the heart to get rid of this place.  So it stays in the family.”

They spent several days blissfully unaware of goings-on in either Geneva or Brussels, focused solely on the three of them and solving the mysteries of the universe over coffee in the mornings and wine in the evenings.  Wufei was glad to discover that Mrs. Darlian was as sharp-witted and sincere as her daughter. The woman was quick to assure him that any of Relena’s more diplomatic habits were rooted in her travels with her father, as she herself—or so she claimed—preferred more direct approaches to conflict resolution.  Having spent only a few days with the woman, Wufei had little doubt. The pictures Relena showed him from an old photo album of her mother at a protest march only solidified his expectations. 

They had almost settled into a comfortable familiarity when Relena reminded them that a life beyond the German countryside existed.  “I’m going to have to sequester myself in the office,” Relena told them over breakfast on that fateful morning. “I have some late-breaking work tasks to handle today.”

“It’s recess,” he observed, confused; the ESUN usually took their breaks very seriously.  

“Tell that to our mutual friend in the President’s Office,” Relena replied, sounding bitter, though Wufei could tell her frustration lacked any real venom; it more an acknowledgement of a shared tendency toward overwork.

“That’s too bad,” Darlian said with a frown.  But then an idea seemed to occur to her and she turned to Wufei.  “ _ You  _ don’t have to work, do you Wufei?”

Sensing a trap, the hair at the back of his neck stood on edge.  Tentative, he replied honestly, “No. The Director would flay me if she knew I was working while out of town.  I have strict orders in that regard.” 

Darlian smiled.  To Relena, she said, “It’s really too bad you have to work, dear, because Wufei and I have plans.”

“We do?”   


“Mutti…” Relena’s voice was cautionary, a warning.

“Well we’re not going to hang around here just because you have to finish your homework,” the older woman answered. Her voice, tight and prim, indicated what a preposterous idea that was. “Especially when it’s such a lovely day.”

After breakfast, they had parted with plans for Wufei to meet Darlian downstairs when he was ready to go.  He had been about to offer to go immediately, wherever she had planned, when he caught the look Relena shot him from across the table.  He thus followed her up to the study as she prepared for work. He walked beside the bookshelf that lined the one wall, studying titles embossed into the old spines as Relena set up her laptop at the desk. 

“I can talk to her,” Relena said quietly, her eyes finding his from across the room.

The unspoken implications of the suggestion were not lost on Wufei. He stepped away from the bookshelf and walked toward her. “I appreciate the thought,” he began as he came up behind her. Resting his hands at her waist, he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. “But your mother isn’t the enemy, and I can in fact be trusted without a chaperone.”

Relena turned in his arms to face him, sporting a sardonic grin. “I know she isn’t ‘the enemy,’ and I trust you just fine,” she assured, her hands resting on his chest. “But this is supposed to be a vacation for you too. I don’t want you to feel cornered.”

“Your mother has been nothing but kind to me,” Wufei said, trying to reassure her but uncertain about why he had to. Ducking his head, he sought her downcast gaze and drew her eyes up to his once more. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Focus on getting your work done. Meanwhile, your mother and I will form some new alliance to drive you up the wall.”

At this Relena did finally give him an honest smile. “Of that, I have no doubt…”

Wufei craned his neck and kissed her forehead.  “It’ll be fine,” he assured her. After a beat, he withdrew.  As he did, one of her hands found his and lingered in a loose grip at the fingertips before finally parting.  Turning away, he headed out of the room and down the hall.

Reaching the sweeping staircase which led down to the main foyer, he found Darlian tying the belt of her trench coat around her waist.  She looked up at his approach and said, “I thought maybe we could go for a walk.”

Wufei nodded, accepting the proposal without question.  He followed her out the front door and as they moved around the stone pathway that led through the garden on the side of the house, he kept pace with her.

“I’ll spare you the uncertainty,” Darlian said as they made their way through the side garden toward the property line.  “This  _ was  _ an excuse to get you alone.”

Wufei chuckled, though felt the spike of anxiety all the same.  “I figured,” he told her. 

“I just had some questions for you, questions that maybe would be easier to answer without Relena here.”  

“Oh?” 

Darlian nodded and hooked an arm through his as they walked side by side.  “I like you,” she consoled. “Very much. You seem like a good sort. But I need to know if you’re good for  _ her. _

“Relena is a lot like her father,” she continued.  “Principled and stubborn and driving headlong into the fray.  Seems to me she seeks out the same in other people.” At this, she looked up at him.  “I know you’re one of them, one of the Gundam pilots. She told me before you arrived.”

Wufei nodded, swallowing thickly.  “I hope you won’t hold that against me.”

“Oh no, rest assured I do not.  I simply consider it the latest instance that proves my case on who Relena allows into her inner circle.  It speaks volumes of your character as much as it does hers. How long have you two been together?”

Wufei considered his answer carefully.  “Officially, two years. Maybe a little less.”  He chanced a sidelong glance at the woman on his arm and caught her smirking.  A flush started to creep into his cheeks at the sight, despite his best efforts to suppress it.

“‘Officially,’” Mareen echoed, sounding as if she knew far more about the ‘unofficial’ period than she let on.  “And what, may I ask, are your intentions toward my daughter?”

“I think that would depend on what she wants.”

“That’s a safe answer,” she observed.  “I’ll rephrase. What do  _ you  _ want, assuming she did not object?”

Wufei considered the question for a time, his thoughts sliding comfortably to his absent partner.  “I’d like to be there for her,” he said at last. “I’d like to be the one she comes to for whatever reason, bad and good.  I’d like to be able to come to her with the same.” He pressed his lips into a thin line as he mulled the question further and was grateful for the comfortable silence Darlian gave him.  “She...makes me a better version of myself, pushes me to be the person I  _ want  _ to be rather than the person I’ve  _ been _ .  That matters to me, given everything that’s happened.  

“I’d never presume to think that she would need that kind of strength from someone,” Wufei continued, “or that I’d be the right one to offer it to her.  But...I’d like to try. If she’d let me.”

Darlian stopped, drawing the two of them up short on the path.  She studied him closely for a breathless moment and then smiled.  It told him nothing, but he felt the anxiety that had settled around his shoulders lift at the sight.  


	6. Chapter 6

**Unit #1520  
** **Las Vegas, Nevada  
** **6 June 209**

Trowa stared out at the night sky from the roof of his apartment building, the light pollution from the Strip drowning out most of the stars, save for those furthest from the horizon.  A lonely night tonight at the apartment building. Many of the residents were still out performing while those who were not had long since turned in for a decent night’s sleep. But insomnia was his ever-present friend, and so he kept watch into the early hours of the new day.  

Now he checked his watch and, pulling his mobile from his back pocket, he dialed a familiar number.

“Hi!” Cathy said brightly when she answered the call after a few rings.

“Hey,” he replied, the word carried over the phone on a sigh.

“How are you?”  Her tone had sobered with the loaded question.  

Trowa searched for the right answer, knowing she had already sensed his troubled mind from his one-word response.  “I’m fine,” he settled on at last. And in truth, he was. The work and his colleagues with the troupe continued to challenge him, help him grow.  But it was as if a...spark had gone out. Trowa hadn’t known what to make of that at first, the dullness that had colored his days of late. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, his eyes on the horizon.  

“What is it?” Cathy prompted.

“I’m not coming back,” Trowa told her.  He then laughed darkly before she could reply.  “I mean...I’ll come back to train people, but... But I’m not coming  _ back _ .  I’m not staying.”  

She was silent for a time, and he could see her in his mind’s eye pacing her small trailer.  “Can I ask why?” she finally asked him.

Trowa considered the question for a time, studying it as well as his own emotions.  At last, he said only, “I don’t want to.”

There was a breathy laugh on the other end before Cathy said, “Okay.”

“ _ Is _ it okay?” 

“Trowa,” she began, sounding patient if a bit amused.  “You’re my brother. I want you to be happy more than I need you near me.  If that means you move on to do something else, then who am I to stand in your way?”


	7. Chapter 7

**ESUN L4 Representative’s Local Office  
** **L4-V05001  
** **4 August 209**

Ester Rafati, one of the delegation’s locally-based professional staff, breezed into the office with a quick greeting to the administrative personnel at the front of the suite before dropping down into the chair next to Quatre’s desk.  He glanced up from the memo he was writing as she crossed her legs and laced her fingers together, dropping her hands to her knee. “Hello,” he greeted her.

“Hello,” she replied, voice as forced and prim as her posture.  

_ Oh no. _  Turning to face her fully, Quatre asked, “Anything I can do for you?”

“I just thought you should know that the Representative has decided to go with Tehran’s proposal on employment numbers and trade routes.”  

“ _ What?   _ How?  Why—?”

Quatre’s shocked line of questioning was abruptly stymied by Ester’s jaded laughter.  “Welcome to government,” she said in feigned amusement. 

“It’s a bad proposal!”

“I know,” she said, “and I’m glad you think so too.  But everyone has an angle and some decisions are made for political rather than logical reasons.  L4’s no exception to that rule.” She sighed and allowed herself to relax a bit, her eyes focusing on some invisible thing over Quatre’s shoulder.  “We can be peaceful and inclusive or peaceful and self-interested. L4 has long trended toward the latter, with rare exceptions of humanitarianism. Independence is a new dynamic, and this is our limited window to change the pattern.”

Quatre smirked.  “I can’t tell if you’re optimistic about our prospects on that or not.”

Ester smiled.  “I’m  _ pragmatic _ .  Representatives are human too.  And sometimes they don’t think big enough.  That’s  _ our  _ job.”

Quatre considered this.  Ester was only a year or two his senior, and the two of them had become fast friends in the months since his joining the team.  A mentor and a guide through the unfamiliar environment of public service, he looked to her to keep him sane as he grappled with his new role and responsibilities. 

This was the latest frustration the two of them were commiserating over, but Quatre had a sneaking suspicion it was far from the last.  Unless... “Okay,” Quatre muttered, trying to catch up with the gears turning in his head. “Whose ear do we need to bend in order to change course?”

Ester laughed.  “You were the head of a mega-corporation.  You tell me.” But then she offered, “I don’t know.  Maybe the Deputy? Another colony team? Who did you always listen to?  Besides your board.”

After a beat, Quatre replied, “My Chief of Staff.”  The two of them shared conspiratorial grins for a moment before he turned back to his computer and pulled up the office calendar.  “Let’s find some time to talk to Abdul privately, shall we...?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Heero Yuy’s Studio Apartment  
** **Geneva, Switzerland  
** **27 September 209**

“You’ve been quiet,” Duo mused where he sat curled on Heero’s small secondhand couch.  He murmured a quick word of thanks as Heero passed him a beer.

“I’ve been thinking,” Heero replied as he took a seat beside Duo.

“About?” Duo prompted, taking a pull from the bottle.  

Heero didn’t answer at first; instead, he picked at the bottle label with a dull fingernail.  The epiphany had come earlier in the week, hailing a success for the division. Since then, his thoughts had turned sour and slowly ate a pit into his stomach where they had then festered further.  Taking a deep breath, he finally said, “I’m unhappy. At work,” he added quickly. “I had thought being closer to you and Wufei and the...familiarity of it all would be good. But I’m unhappy. I’m…” He searched for the word and settled on, “tired.  I’m tired of the mission. I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“So don’t,” Duo answered with a shrug, his eyes betraying his confusion.

But the response only reinforced for Heero that he could never truly embrace Duo’s spontaneity.  “If not this, then what?” he asked. “I don’t know what else I would do if I wasn’t a Preventer. It’s all I’ve done since ‘97.”

“Heero, your job doesn’t define you,” Duo countered.  “It pays the bills. It shouldn’t be more than that.”

“But it is and you know that.  You especially know that.”

Duo had the good sense to look a bit chastised.  If he had only been looking to make ends meet, he and Heero would have both stayed up on L2 with Hilde.  After a time, Duo clarified, “Preventers is a vehicle by which you  _ do  _ something that matters to you.  Being in the Corps is the means, not the ends.  And if it isn’t achieving its ends, then you should leave.  The organization could be doing everything right—and with Wufei and Sally at the helm, it’ll be doing everything right twice as effectively—but what it needs to do for the Earth Sphere and what you need it to do  _ for you _ may not align anymore.”

Heero hadn’t thought of it that way; that  _ the  _ mission and  _ his  _ mission were different.  It prompted him to ask, “Why did you join the Preventers?  Why did you go into interpretation? Why did you take the job with Reuson?”

Duo smirked at him.  “We gonna psycho-analyze me now?  I thought this was about you.”

“Call it a control case,” Heero answered.

Duo chuckled and set his beer down on the coffee table.  Shifting on the couch, he threw his arm over the back. He held the smirk in place for a moment longer, but then his face softened as he relented and did some introspection of his own.  “I think at the core of it...I don’t trust people. I don’t trust them to do their job even with the best of intentions. If I’m in the room or part of the dialogue or at the table, then I can reassure my more paranoid side that we haven’t gone off the deep end.  I can sleep easier knowing that I’m part of the solution.  _ That’s  _ what I need: I need to help build the future I bled for, and I’ll fight off anyone who tries to tell me that I can’t.”

Heero mulled over this information.  He’d never asked Duo why he did what he did; he had just assumed Duo was like water, going where the tides took him.  There was still an element of that, Heero supposed, but perhaps it hadn’t all been as uncalculated as he’d originally thought.  “What if I don’t know what that is for me?”

“Seems to me you’ve got a few choices,” Duo began.  He drew his legs up to cross them on the couch between them and ticked items off on his fingers.  “One: you can stay in a job that isn’t cutting it anymore. Two: you could quit and travel the world.”  Heero must have made a face because Duo chuckled at his reaction before continuing. “Three: you could quit and stay in Geneva.  Or—” Duo hesitated suddenly, his eyes searching Heero’s face as he waited patiently, “—or four: you quit and come live with me up in Brussels.”

Heero sat quietly for a moment, studying the man beside him.  “You want me to move in with you?” he asked, still unsure if he’d misunderstood.

Duo grinned.  “Yes. But only if you would like that.  I mean, we haven’t  _ actually  _ lived together in a long time—”

“But what would I do in Brussels?”

“Whatever you want.  Catch up on sleep. Do some soul-searching.  Focus on your writing.”

“But how would any of that help  _ you _ ?”  Heero asked.  “I...I don’t want to be a burden.”

Duo reached down to take one of Heero’s hands in his own.  “If you volunteer for cleaning duty, I won’t stop you. But that’s not why I suggested you move up.  I only get to see you once a month, maybe twice if we’re  _ really lucky.   _ I’d much rather us being under the same roof be the norm rather than the exception.  If you’re up for it, I am too. We’ll figure out the rest of it.”

Heero pressed his lips into a thin line as he considered the proposal.  He was surprised at the wave of relief that came over him. With a small smile, he squeezed Duo’s hand with his own and said, “Okay.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Meddah Coffeehouse  
** **L4-V05001  
** **22 November 209**

“What brings you to L4?” 

“Business,” Dorothy answered vaguely, keeping her tone light.  

Quatre smiled at her from across the small table.  “Current or future?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee, keeping his eyes on her over the rim of the white cup.

Dorothy smiled back, sharp like a knife.  “I’m beginning to think your invitation to coffee is a poorly veiled attempt to lull me into a false sense of security.”

He laughed and set his cup down.  “Hardly,” he assured. “It was the least I could do when you said you would be coming up.  I seem to recall losing a bet from several years ago.” 

“Ah, but you’re just getting started,” she countered, picking up her own coffee cup and pausing to take a drink.  Bitter and strong and just what her jetlagged state required for this conversation. “I gave you a decade to become  _ the  _ Representative. Or one of them, if that’s what L4 decides to do.  You still have time.” [1]

“How unfortunate then that I have no delusions of grandeur,” he deadpanned.

At this, Dorothy did laugh.  “Truly it is, at least where world domination is concerned.”  In truth, L4 could use more people like Quatre who was a shrewder operator and a harder man than he let on in public.  “How are you liking public service?”

“I’d wager about as much as you enjoy telling people how to do their jobs better.”

“So quite a bit then, albeit not without some exasperation,” Dorothy acknowledged.  “Such is the price to be paid, I suppose.” 

She had worked damn hard to get to where she was, more than a decade since she had put a foil through the man drinking coffee with her on this fine L4 day.  There were times over the years that she would watch the movements of the others she had known then and would struggle against some quiet resentment. Had they had an easier time of it, adjusting to peace and their new roles therein?  They had all made it look so easy. Looking at Quatre now, however, she took some comfort in the fatigue behind his eyes. He was adept at hiding it...but it was always easier to hide something when the person across from you didn’t know where to look.  

“Joking aside,” she said now, “I feel like there is something you meant to ask of me.”

“I’d like your help.”

“Most government types do, though they’re not usually so transparent about it.”

“Perhaps,” Quatre acknowledged, “but I’m not most government types.”

A slow, dark smile slid across Dorothy’s lips.  “No, you’re not.” She agreed. “So let’s talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Reminder: in AC 205, [Dorothy bet Quatre](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9576476/chapters/21654233) that he would be in L4 government within a decade.


	10. Chapter 10

**Preventers Headquarters  
** **Geneva, Switzerland  
** **8 December 209**

Wufei stood up from his desk, eyes glued to a status report from the Deputies on the status of their integration into the Preventers’ new processes and structure.  The week since the roll-out had been spent meeting with each and every division to make sure the way ahead was understood. An exhausting schedule of repeating oneself; different faces but always the same questions.  With a deadline looming at the end of the month, the organization was priming to get things finalized before people left on holiday.

As he moved through the suite, however, laughter echoed behind him.  Turning, Wufei found Sally covering her face as she fought to regain some semblance of self-control.  “What?” he prompted. 

She waved half-heartedly at the floor.  “We can track your movements through the office,” she told him, still chuckling.  “All we have to do is look for the glitter.” 

Sure enough, the path he had just tread was coated with a fine sheen of sparkling dust.  Wufei sighed.  _ Heero _ .  He would never forgive the man; he was still picking metallic glitter out of his work space, even a week after the man’s ‘Morale-Booster Sub-Committee’ had gift wrapped his desk.  He feared it had become a new status quo; earlier in the day he had made the fatal error of picking up a file folder which avalanched more of the stuff into his lap. [1]

“I’ll call Facilities, get someone in with a vacuum.”

Sally waved him off.  “Don’t bother. It’s not that bad.  Save it for when guests actually notice.”  She nodded at the paper he had been reading.  “Latest implementation?” Wufei nodded and passed the package over to his boss.  Sally skimmed it with interest. “Think they’ll make the deadline?”

“I think so.  Middle management has been working this for a few months now ahead of the formal notice.  And ‘get it done before you leave for vacation’ is a good motivator for most people.”

“Speaking of,” Sally said, latching onto the word as she passed the report back to him.  “I noticed you didn’t request time off. Any reason for that?”

Wufei winced, knowing the lecture that was forthcoming regardless of what answer he gave her. If he hid behind work or suggested he’d be taking on the burden of running the office for his coworkers who had families, she’d remind him that mobile devices and ‘on-call’ status were a thing that were liberally used during the holiday season. 

In truth, Relena and her mother had invited him back to the Darlian country house in Germany for the holiday (Mrs. Darlian had been most insistent), but some part of him was afraid.  Not of the roads or the weather or the company, but rather being too far from the office during this time of transition. A year since the colonial independence vote and a year out yet from the next ESUN Presidential election, and all systems were green.  There were no indications from any source of inbound crises, and what small-scale incidents did percolate up to Preventers’ attention were being kept solidly local and sufficiently managed. And yet there was a part of him that wouldn’t let him rest, waiting for some unseen shoe to drop.

Sally read him like a book.  A knowing smile graced her lips, but when she spoke it was all business.  “I expect to see a leave request in my inbox by close of business, Wufei. It must be at least four days.  Not including the weekend. Understood?”

Wufei gave her an apologetic smile.  “Yes, ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] You can read up on the Morale Booster Sub-Committee’s exploits over at “Distractions”


	11. Chapter 11

**Brussels, Belgium  
** **24 December 209**

Originally Heero had thought Duo’s request to stay local over the Christmas holiday had been work-related—they were officially within a year from the next ESUN presidential election—but Duo quickly corrected him.

“Boss throws a big party for the staff,” he had explained.  “I...don’t usually go because I’m going off somewhere else. With you, or the others.”  Duo had paused and then added cryptically, “I don’t know if I can get away with that, now that you’re on the same continent.”

“You sound like you don’t want to go,” Heero had observed.  “Or you don’t want  _ me  _ to go,” he added for good measure.

Duo had looked horrified at the suggestion and was quick to reassure.  “No! No, it’s not that. I can’t speak from personal experience, but I’ve been told I’ve missed a good time every year.  And I have no reservations about you coming, Christ. It’s just…” He paused then, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he considered his words.  “I have this weird feeling that I get when they talk about you, talk about wanting to  _ meet  _ you.  It’s like...two worlds are blurring together and I need their approval for something they don’t control.”  He shook his head, grimacing.

“You want them to like me,” Heero had told him.

“Well, and I want  _ you  _ to like  _ them _ ,” Duo had added.

Heero then exhaled, the sound colored with subdued laughter.  “That’s normal as far as I can tell. I felt much the same way when you met my friends in New York.”

“I like your friends in New York,” Duo had reminded him.  “We have a group chat.”

“I know; I’m in it.”

“No, we have a  _ different  _ group chat,” Duo informed him with a wink, “reserved for us excessively dramatic types.”  

Heero had snorted and rolled his eyes.  “In any case,” he had said, pulling them back to the matter at hand, “tell your boss we’ll be at his party.”

When the date of the event came, they walked side-by-side through the dark Brussels streets to the President’s Mansion.  The air was cold and brisk, packed snow crunching underfoot. Their first winter in Geneva had been much like this one, Heero recalled with some fondness, glancing sidelong at Duo.  It was one of the few instances that his partner had ever looked his age, staring up into the night sky as snowflakes caught in his eyelashes. 

Upon arrival at the President’s Mansion, they moved quickly through a series of security checkpoints, aided by Duo’s badge, and headed into the residential wing.  But as they moved toward the sounds of a crowd, Heero sensed Duo hesitate. There was a break in the steady cadence of his strides, nearly imperceptible to the untrained ear.  Heero reached down and brushed his fingertips against the back of Duo’s hand, which earned him a secret smile that passed between them in the space between breaths and then was gone, replaced by something far more confident.

When they entered the main hall, they were greeted by other recent arrivals and Duo introduced him accordingly.  Before too long, however, a bright-eyed teenager bounded up to them and latched herself on Duo’s arm. “You came!” she cried.  “Dad will be so excited.”

Duo chuckled and extracted his arm only to then sling it across the girl’s shoulders.  Heero had the distinct impression she was the only person in the room he could do that to, more due to his height than protocol.  He kept his amusement to himself as Duo introduced the girl. “Heero, this is Adrienne Reuson, our team mascot.”

“Oorah,” the girl replied on cue and stretched out a hand.  “You must be Heero, then?”

Heero took her hand and shook it.  “I am. I’m sorry to hear I keep preventing Duo from joining the annual festivities.”

Adrienne grinned.  “Well it’s not just Duo we’re glad to see.  You’re part of the package. I’m not supposed to say anything, but there was an office pool going about on whether or not you were even real.”

Heero laughed at this while Duo flushed, appalled.  “I hope I’ve managed to allay any of those concerns.”

The girl squinted at him, playful.  “We shall see. You could just be one of those super elaborate holograms.  Recommend you get something to eat in order to dispel the myth.” And with a peck on Duo’s cheek, she was gone.

“Office pool?” Duo ground out between clenched teeth.  “The hell…?”

Heero chuckled and took hold of his hand.  With a gentle tug, he urged, “Come on.”

Duo’s coworkers were a fascinating crowd, Heero decided before too long.  Lawyers and politicians, military and civilians, altruists and opportunists.  There was an underlying thread of unyielding optimism and sharp wit that held them all together, however.  Heero found himself quickly easing into the atmosphere, finding the crowd’s energy more infectious than intimidating.  He was grateful for that as he mingled with the rest of them, never far from Duo’s side.

About twenty minutes into their meanderings, their paths at last crossed with their host.  “You must be Heero,” the President said, reaching out a hand in greeting.

Heero shook it and replied simply, “Sir.”

Reuson laughed as they parted. “‘Michael’ is fine.  We're very informal here, at least when the cameras aren't rolling.

“I'm glad you were able to join us,” Reuson continued. “It's nice to finally put a name and face together. It's odd to think that after all this time, my security detail knows you but we’ve never had the chance to meet.” The older man’s eyes turned to Duo over the rim of his glass as he took a drink from the contents, admonishing him silently.

Beside Heero, Duo groaned under the pressure.  “I know... But in my defense, there was a lot going on last year...”

“And it’s not like New York is terribly close,” Heero added with a shrug, coming to his boyfriend’s aid.  “I appreciate the invitation though. I’m glad we could make it work this year. Usually we’re gone by now.”

Reuson smiled at this.  Heero was struck by how genuine it was, and it dawned on him suddenly that this was not just Duo’s superior.  This man was something more. This man was someone who  _ cared _ .  “I’ve heard,” Reuson told him.  “Up to the colonies or elsewhere in the Earth Sphere.  That’s what the holidays are for, in the end: spending time with friends and family.  My wife usually joins these soirées but she is presently giving a speech downtown. She should be joining us in—” he glanced at his watch, “—another hour?  I hope you stay until she arrives at least. She was excited to meet you too.” 

Reuson’s eyes then shot over Heero’s shoulder and off to the right before a wide smile appeared on his face.  Refocusing on the two of them, he explained, “I’m afraid I’m being summoned away by my daughter.” Reaching out, he shook Heero’s hand again.  “I’m very glad you’re here, Heero. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you.”

As the President walked away, weaving his way through other party-goers, Heero commented, “He seems nice.  I like him.”

“He is nice.  He likes you too,” Duo replied.

The words made Heero smile, but there was an unexpectedly somber cast to them, so he turned to study his partner.  Duo’s gaze was unfocused as he studied the floor several steps ahead of them. It was as if he was listening to whispers under the din around them. Again, Heero reached out, brushing Duo’s hand with his fingertips to draw him away from whatever dark memories had risen to the surface.

Duo looked up at the touch and this time offered an apologetic smile.  “Sorry,” he said. “Just thinking.”

“I know,” Heero assured, “but this is supposed to be fun.”

Duo’s smile brightened at this and he leaned forward to give Heero a chaste kiss on the cheek.  The public affection sent little thrills down Heero’s spine and he couldn’t fight the smile that graced his lips. 

“Oh. My. God.  It’s the boyfriend.”

The two of them turned to find a middle-aged woman approaching from the corner.  Her eyes flashed and Heero had the distinct impression he’d uncovered the natural foil to the President’s kindness.  

“Yes, it’s the boyfriend,” Duo confirmed.  “Heero, this is Analyn Mendoza. Our Chief of Staff, slave-driver, and one-woman army.”  As Heero shook the woman’s offered hand greeting, Duo then sniped, “We heard about the office pool.”

Mendoza laughed.  “Yes, well. I figured that would get out tonight, especially if you came together.”  To Heero, she said, “I'll be honest: some of us were beginning to consider you to be the stuff of legend.  A unicorn, even.”

Heero smirked. “I assume I'm considered real enough after this, yes?”

Mendoza’s smile softened. “Yes, quite.  I'm glad you could make it and give me the chance to meet you before I leave.”

“Leave?”

“Analyn isn't staying on for a second term,” [1] Duo piped up beside him. “Next year is her last.”

Duo sounded...uncertain, as if there was a delicate dance happening which Heero couldn't see. He made a note to ask him about it later. To Mendoza, Heero asked, “When do you leave?”

The woman shook her head, noncommittal. “I’ll probably stay on through the election for continuity’s sake, but not much longer afterward.  I don’t have anything lined up, you see. For afterward.”

“God forbid you take a vacation,” Duo chided.

Mendoza replied with a sharp grin, “Vacations are for the weak and weary.  We are neither.” Turning to Heero, her smile softened. “Enjoy the party you two,” she said, drifting away and back into the crowd.

There was a heavy pause between them, and Heero took a chance.  “If she’s leaving, they're going to push a lot of that responsibility to you, aren't they?”

Duo grimaced and said only, “Nothing’s been decided…”  

But they both knew the answer.  Heero could sense it in the tension that rose steadily in how Duo carried himself, how he couldn’t quite hold his gaze.  Even as he recognized it, acknowledged it, the wall slid down and the evidence evaporated. Duo returned to the party and the merriment around them and drove Heero’s attention back to the multitude.  Heero let it go.

The rest of the festivities passed in a blur of good food and better conversation.  For a time Heero allowed himself to forget about the moments of melancholy emanating from his boyfriend that had peppered their evening and focused on the new friends he had made.  It left a warmth in his chest which seemed appropriate for the season. It stayed with him as they said their goodbyes and wished others a happy, and peaceful, holiday.

They began their trek home through the snow which had continued to accumulate through the evening, lost in their own thoughts.  As they passed the wrought iron gates of a nearby park, however, Duo hesitated. “Diversion?” he suggested, reaching out his gloved hand.

“Sure,” Heero replied, taking Duo’s hand in his own.  

They crossed the empty street and passed through the gates of the park, which was vast and empty and glittering white under the sporadic streetlights.  After a time, Heero gave voice to his thoughts earlier in the evening. “Our first winter in Geneva was like this one. With the snow.”

“I’d never seen it before,” Duo murmured.  

“I seem to recall you being poorly dressed for the weather and commenting astutely on the aerodynamics of snowflakes.” [2]

Duo laughed at this and some of the tension seemed to bleed away.  He squeezed Heero’s hand and then diverted toward a bench, pulling Heero with him with a gentle tug.  They brushed off a recent dusting of snowfall before sitting down, huddled together against the cold. 

“I think that was when I started to see you differently,” Heero confided after a time.  “Not romantically, not like that. Just...differently. You were just a kid. Like me. You weren’t dangerous, in that moment.  Which meant I didn’t have to be either.” He shifted on the bench so that he could face Duo more directly. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

After a beat, Duo admitted, “You were right.  About Analyn and their plans for my job, the workload.  I just...wasn’t sure how you would take it. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Why would I be disappointed?”

“Because I asked you to move in and then I go and take this on without talking to you about it,” Duo told him, the words coming in a rush.  “Feels like some shitty bait-and-switch. ‘Quit your job and see more of me. But oh wait, nevermind.’ Such an asshole thing to do...”

As Duo spoke, Heero removed one of his gloves, the cold shocking his skin.  He reached out and touched the man’s cheek. The caress was enough to startle the other man into momentary silence.  It gave him the opening he needed, and he leaned forward to capture Duo’s lips with his own with an insistent kiss. 

When they parted, Heero held Duo’s gaze just as insistently.  “I’m not disappointed,” he began. “I’m not upset. I’m proud of you.  Of everything you’ve done. And I’ll  _ keep telling you that  _ until you get it through your thick skull.”  Duo allowed himself a jaded laugh, acknowledging the admonishment.  Heero pressed ahead, “I want to be there for you, just as you’ve been there for me when I need you.  Sometimes, though...sometimes I think it’s easier for you if I’m  _ closer.   _ Yes?”  

He watched Duo worry his lower lip between his teeth before he dropped his eyes to the space between them, nodding.  Heero ran his thumb against Duo’s cheek and brought his eyes back up to meet his own. “So...about moving in. How does May look?”  He watched untold emotions flash across Duo’s face, sliding gradually into unabashed excitement. It was like watching the sun rise and Heero counted himself lucky to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] ESUN Presidential terms are five years and they can be elected twice. Reuson was sworn into the job early on 1 January 206 and called in the [contingent job offer for Duo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10101275/chapters/22502837).
> 
> [2] You can reread that particular snippet back [here in AC 197](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5766829/chapters/13290844).


	12. Chapter 12

**Cirque Ste-Croix  
** **Minsk, Belarus  
** **29 December 209**

Cathy knocked twice on the door to the trailer which had been her brother’s for years.  She heard Trowa’s call from inside a moment later. His voice had an echoing quality to it, as if he was calling to her from far away.  Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped up into his living space for perhaps the last time.

The trailer had been emptied of Trowa’s personal effects, packed into limited luggage or—if the item had some utility—relinquished into the care of another performer.  It left the living space feeling almost sterile, abandoned. 

Pushing the unsavory thought aside, Cathy leaned against the kitchen countertop and crossed her arms almost defensively over her chest as she asked, “Still on track for your departure time?”

“More or less,” Trowa answered, zipping a duffel bag shut and tossing it onto the floor nearby to join its twin.  He braced his hands on his hips to study them and Cathy had the impression that he was ticking through a mental list. 

“I think the crew was hoping you’d be too hungover to leave,” she said, referencing the farewell festivities from the night before.  “Clearly their plan failed.”

Trowa grinned.  From where she stood, Cathy could see the roguish air to it, which made her smile.  “Yeah, well…” Trowa began, “it helps when  _ they’re _ too drunk to see you haven’t refilled your glass.”  Cathy snorted and shook her head, unsurprised. This would explain Trowa’s lucidity compared to the rest of the ground crew who were... _ struggling  _ this morning.  

Her amusement faded, however, as it dawned on her yet again that this was the end of the road, at least for Trowa.  This was not some ‘family’ crisis pulling him away to care for one of the others, or some friendly exploit from which he’d soon return.  She swallowed around the lump that formed in her throat. “Why before New Year’s?” she asked, unable to mask the disappointment. She had been lucky to have Christmas with him, she knew, but she had hoped to savor what little time she had left with him while the troupe was taking some much-deserved R&R.

Trowa was quiet for a time.  Avoiding her gaze, he said, “Someone once told me that whatever you do on New Year’s Day, it compounds over the course of the following year.”  Turning to face her at last, his eyes were searching and hopeful. “I’m not really one for superstitions, but I think in this case...in this case I may try to believe.  I’d like to be doing something  _ new _ .  I  _ have  _ to do something new.”  

“How will you support these exploits?”

“I sold the bike for some good money,” he said, referring to the motorcycle he had painstakingly restored.  “That should last for awhile.”

“And what happens when the money runs out?”

“I’ll figure it out,” he answered promptly with a tinge of exasperation.  

Cathy dropped the line of questioning.  Trowa was a survivor, always had been. He would be alright.  She felt the telltale pricks of coming tears in her eyes. Pushing away from the counter, she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around Trowa’s waist.  He towered over her now, his cheek coming to rest on the crown of her head as he returned the embrace. “Promise me you’ll stay in touch,” she said. “Promise you won’t forget us.”

“I could never forget you,” Trowa told her with quiet certainty.  “You’re family.”


End file.
